


Keeping Secrets as Long as Possible

by boppgoestheweasel



Series: the dadschlatt collection [10]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, DadSchlatt, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Kid Tubbo, Tubbo central, Tubbo gets bullied, kid tommy, maybe ooc?, no beta we die like men, rated for alcoholism and cussing, tommy and tubbo are friends, uncle quackity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:15:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28699002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boppgoestheweasel/pseuds/boppgoestheweasel
Summary: For the most part, Schlatt was really good at hiding his drinking habits from his young son.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Jschlatt, Jschlatt & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Series: the dadschlatt collection [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2080011
Comments: 16
Kudos: 313





	Keeping Secrets as Long as Possible

**Author's Note:**

> hello again! This was a request from user anabashedtrashcan! You guys know I love angst central fic ideas. I hope I did it justice!!  
> Have any requests/suggestions for dadschlatt? Leave them in the comments!
> 
> As always, I write my content based solely on the characters portrayed in the SMP roleplay, never the real people!! If any of the CCs are uncomfortable with anything I've written though, the content will be deleted immediately.

For the most part, Schlatt was really good at hiding his drinking habits from his young son.

He was sure Tubbo wouldn’t even know the difference between Schlatt drinking orange juice to him drinking beer, but there was always that possibility that he did, that he saw the side effects that the alcohol would have on him that the orange juice did not.

Tubbo was four now, and he had started to go to a daycare that Quackity recommended a few months back. That was where he had met Tommy, and where he had met a lot of other kids his age, some older, some younger. Schlatt was thankful for the free daycare, but he had always been wary about just handing his kid off to random people; he had to though, because no one was available to watch his son. Quackity was deep in his studies for the semester, and finding a babysitter would be rather difficult, especially since the man didn’t know where to start. 

One thing that made him wary from the very beginning was the fact that Tubbo carried his stuffed bee around everywhere… he had since Schlatt bought it for him like, a year back. That thing went  _ everywhere  _ Tubbo went, it never left his hands. In the car, at home, in his sleep, at the daycare, at the park… you get the point. And he knew he was right for feeling that day when he came to pick Tubbo up and the group leader had something to tell Schlatt.

_ “There are a few older kids here that pick on him sometimes. It doesn’t seem to bother him too much but…” _

_ “But what?”  _ Schlatt held Tubbo in his arms, squeezing the tired boy slightly. The boy had let out a squeak.

_ “Well, there’s a little boy his age who takes the offense a lot worse than your boy does. He points sticks at them and tells them to ‘shoo.’ He protects Tubbo.” _

Schlatt had blinked, easing his hold on Tubbo. There was someone looking out for his son? Was it Tommy? The red-clad kid? It had to be, Tommy was talked about all the time at home. Tubbo had never mentioned the bullies, though.

Each day, there would be something new. Tubbo would get pushed down, or yelled at, or laughed at, and Schlatt would just pull him out if it wasn’t for that Tommy kid. Sometimes when he would pick him up, he would see his son and Tommy next to a wall, and Tommy would be holding Tubbo’s hand, whispering something to the boy. It was endearing, knowing someone cared for his son in that hellscape. Yes, the group leaders were nice, but there was only so much they could do. 

They had been best friends since they met, Tommy and Tubbo. Tommy came over for the kid’s fourth birthday and they paired together like… fire and fire. The screams, the yells. It was insane, but Tubbo was so happy the whole day. Tommy came over more after that for sure. 

Schlatt thought Tubbo’s bullies had died down a little bit. He hadn’t heard any alarming stories over the past day or so, and he thought maybe they were starting to cease.

That just wasn’t the case.

You see, Schlatt thought he had everything under control, he thought he knew every possibility that could get Tubbo in trouble, or hurt. It turns out he forgot one fucking thing.

“Hey, Tubbo,” one of the kids called.

Tubbo turned from where he and Tommy were playing. They were playing with the small dollhouse, since some girls had the bigger one. Their little family was doing well; their dolls were brothers, and the parents were dead, somehow. Tragic story really, but what do you expect when a couple of four year olds without moms made it?

“Yeah?” Tubbo clutched onto his bee, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see Tommy tense up. The bullies were finally in front of them, the three of them towering over the smaller boys. 

“You know, my mom told me something about your dad.” 

Tubbo looked back to Tommy, and Tommy just shrugged and shook his head. Tubbo held his bee tight to his chest.

“What?”

“He’s a drunk. He’s an alcoholic. I heard those kinds of people are insane,” the tallest boy in the group said, practically spitting it.

Tubbo’s eyebrows quirked in confusion. He was pretty sure Tommy felt the same way. 

“He always looks bad. Does he still love you?” 

Tubbo looked down. “Yeah.” He knew that for sure, his dad definitely loved him. He wasn’t good at saying it, though. 

“Yeah right. Alcoholics can’t love their kids. They’re mean.”

“My papa isn’t mean.” Tubbo’s eyebrows furrowed into his face. Why were they assuming things about him? It hurt his feelings.

“How would you know? You’re here all day, he could be downing alcohol right now.” 

Tubbo didn’t know what “all coh hall” was, but the way the kid said it made him very upset. It was like he was making fun of his dad. 

“My mom said that alcoholics are sick. That they shouldn’t have kids.” 

Tubbo felt his knees lock up and his palms started to get sweaty as the kid came closer. 

“Explains a lot about you.”

He didn’t know when, but eventually his feet were off the ground and he was slammed up against the kid on the ground. His small fists were flailing around, and he was screaming with all the force he had, smacking at the boy beneath him. 

Tommy was shouting at Tubbo, and Tubbo didn’t know if they were words of encouragement or words of caution, telling him to get off the bully. Either way, it didn’t matter. Tubbo wanted to rip this kid to shreds, he had done too much.

Hands were grabbing at him as he continued to kick and punch, and then he was being carried away from the boy. He faintly saw Tommy following where he was being taken, as his vision was blurred by tears and hurt. Why did he say all those things? What did they even mean? His dad wasn’t a bad person, Tubbo knew that much. So why would the boy say such terrible things?

“Tubbo, Tubbo, why did you do that? What’s wrong?” The woman who was now crouched in front of him asked, concern twisting her features. 

Tubbo didn’t answer though. He wouldn’t, she didn’t have to know. He was really hurt, and he didn’t even notice that his bee was gone until Tommy came up next to him and placed it on his lap. Tubbo looked over at Tommy and not even a second after, he was hugging the other boy. Tommy held on tight; he didn’t say anything about what had just happened. 

Schlatt arrived at the daycare in a hurry. He had gotten a call from the daycare, and the woman mentioned that Tubbo had gotten into a fight, and that he wouldn’t tell them what happened. Schlatt had been filing for job applications, but he stopped everything he was doing and he got in his car, speeding to the daycare.

When he got there, he was let in, and he came to Tubbo, who was sitting next to Tommy in chairs, holding his hand.

“Tubbo, kid, what happened?” Schlatt asked, kneeling in front of his son.

Tubbo refused to speak, only continuing to stare at his lap. Tommy watched Schlatt with careful eyes. 

“You won’t talk to me either?” 

Tubbo remained silent, not daring to look up at the man. Schlatt sighed, and lifted Tubbo up from under his arms and held him. The boy tiredly laid his head on Schlatt’s shoulder, so that indicated that nothing was wrong between him and his son. Thank god. 

The car ride home was quiet- Schlatt was awful in these situations. He often got in fights a lot as a kid too, especially in high school when Quackity would get picked on too. The boys were always fighting together. But no one ever taught him how to console a child that fought, since no one really consoled him. So he figured he wouldn’t pry, and that sometime, Tubbo would come and talk to him about it if he really wanted to. What mattered was that he was safe and not hurt; it looked like he won the fight.

Schlatt sat on the couch, staring at the TV absentmindedly. He had a glass of whiskey in his hand, and he took occasional sips of it as he thought about what they had for dinner. It wasn’t much- just leftovers from what Quackity had made them the night before. 

Very quietly, Schlatt heard footsteps behind him. He quickly put the glass behind his foot on the floor- it couldn’t be anyone else but Tubbo.

“Papa?”

Sure enough, there was his kid, wringing his hands in his bee as he stood in front of Schlatt. His eyes were glossy. 

“What’s up, bud?” Schlatt asked, noting the nervous gestures of the child. 

“Um… I gots in a fight today,” Tubbo muttered, “and the boy said some really mean things.”

“What the hell did he say? I’ll wring him out like a fucking towel,” Schlatt’s eyes looked over Tubbo to check for any marks.

“What’s an all-coh-hall-ick?” Tubbo asked suddenly.

Schlatt stopped in his tracks. An… a what? All-coh-....

_ Oh. _

_ An alcoholic. He asked what an alcoholic is. _

“Oh… uh, why do you ask?” Schlatt asked tentatively.

“He called you it. And he said you… he said that you were a mean person.” Tubbo’s bottom lip started to quiver as he averted his gaze from Schlatt.

Schlatt let the boy continue.

“Um… and I didn’t like that. Because he was wrong. He said… h-he said you don’t love me. He said you were sick.”

Schlatt’s eyes watered a bit. They stung. That little fucking punk said these things? He could care less, who fucking cared what a little kid thought? Any kid besides Tubbo didn’t matter to him, save maybe Tommy. And now Tubbo’s view of Schlatt was becoming real. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for that yet. Of  _ course  _ Schlatt loved him; no, no he didn’t voice it half as much as he should, but he always made sure to let him know, even subconsciously. 

“‘N I started to hit him. He hurt… m-my feelings... “ Tubbo was wiping at tears that were falling down his face. Schlatt could tell the boy was about to burst into tears at any moment. “I didn’t mean to… I just wanted him to stop t-talking. I-I...I-”

Boom, the breaking point.

Tubbo had a complete meltdown, and he flung himself into Schlatt’s arms. His painful sobs filled the room, and the walls frowned at the sound of them. Tubbo was so  _ hurt  _ by this kid insulting his dad. 

“Hey, Tubbo, it’s fine, really.” Schlatt pat the kid on the back. “The important thing is that you showed that asshole who’s boss, right?” 

Tubbo looked up at the man and sniffed. “You?”

“No! What?  _ You.  _ You’re the man, Tubbo. You beat the shit out of that guy. Good on you.” 

Schlatt wasn’t sure if he should be praising this behavior, but in all honesty, what his four year old kid did today was kind of badass. He would have to call Quackity sometime later. 

“Y-you’re not mad?” Tubbo sobbed. 

“No, I’m not. You gotta stand up for yourself. But uh… maybe try  _ not  _ to get in a fight unless it’s necessary.” 

Tubbo nodded, and hugged his dad again. Schlatt pat the kid on the back of the head, doing whatever he could to soothe him. But he couldn’t stop thinking about what Tubbo- well, what the kid- had said about him.

_ You’re sick, you’re mean. You don’t love your son.  _

He knew he loved his son, but the first two were definitely up for debate. Sick? Yes. He felt like shit all the time. Mean? Not necessarily, but he could be when it was needed. An alcoholic… he was definitely an alcoholic. 

After a little while, Tubbo calmed down and was asleep in Schlatt’s hug. He carried the boy to his bed and tucked him in before he returned to the living room, feeling absolutely defeated. 

He managed to dodge the question, what an alcoholic was, but who’s to say the little fucker at the daycare wouldn’t go and tell him? He might never know, he might just find Tubbo in the kitchen right when he’s having a drink; Tubbo could scream at him, call him what he is, call him out. 

Schlatt didn’t want that. He would have to find a new daycare for Tubbo. Maybe he could get Tubbo to talk Tommy into telling his parents about it. He wasn’t sure. 

He also wasn’t sure when he had started drinking straight from the bottle of whiskey from the top shelf.

He sunk into the couch, slowly sliding down to the floor, the bottle hanging in his left hand. He wasn’t planning on finishing the whole bottle, but the way he felt right now was probably more powerful than whatever his mind would say. 

He needed  _ help.  _ He needed to go to rehab, he needed  _ something, _ maybe even a support group or some shit…  but he wasn’t ready for anything like that. He didn’t think he could do it. At least not anytime soon. But he did do himself a favor and picked up the phone, dialing the one person he knew would never judge him, hurt him, or ask him questions. The one person that could help him just a bit.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! again, if you have any requests, suggestions or headcanons, please do leave them in the comments!! <3 take care!


End file.
